Fallen Pure Blood
by ShanMah
Summary: Takes place between the fifth and sixth book. Draco and Narcissa earn the permission to visit Lucius in Azkaban!
1. Broken

**Disclaimer:** I don't own Harry Potter, I don't own the characters, I'm not a rich, skilled and famous author named J. K. Rowling - heck, I'm not even Scottish! Shame on me ^^

**Rating:** T, I guess.

**Pairing:** Lucius/Narcissa (Lucissy or whatever it is called, I don't know the pairings' names apart from Dramione and Drarry XD)

**Explanation:** I thought I might do this "fourshots" (XD yeah, fourshots, as opposed to a oneshot): this will be four "chapters" around the same theme, the first from Cissy's POV, then Lucius, then Draco, then Lucius again. It takes place between the fifth and sixth book. You may want to listen to Seether's "Broken" as you read this first part. Oh, by the way, as you may have figured, I don't own that song either ^^

**Fallen Pure Blood**  
**Chapter 1: Broken**

_Guilty_.

Weeks after the trial, the word was still carved into Narcissa Malfoy's thoughts and heart. It was predictable, of course: the facts were all there. Lucius was _indeed_ in the Department of Mysteries, where he had_ indeed_ tried to steal something, and he _indeed_ had the Dark Mark on his left forearm. Years ago, Lucius Malfoy had managed to escape from a trial by swearing he had been put under the Imperius Curse, and by giving a consequent amount of gold to the right people. But now... now, it didn't work like that. Lucius didn't dare turn his back on his master while he was _alive_ and so powerful.

Narcissa had remained perfectly still, cold and elegant as usual, when they had stated that Lucius had been found guilty of his crimes. She was a Black who had married a Malfoy: she knew how to behave herself gracefully and hide her feelings. Draco, too, had tried to remain still, and he had almost succeeded - but she had seen his hands clenching into tight, shaking and white fists.

Lucius had been given the right to see his wife and son about three weeks after being sent to Azkaban. Normally, such visits were forbidden: the Ministry feared that the visitors may help a prisoner to escape. Moreover, most wizards didn't want to go in such a terrible place if they weren't _forced_ to by a judgment.

But Narcissa Malfoy, beautiful and delicate woman that she was, didn't care about the look of Azkaban, or that terrible feeling of despair that caught anyone when they walked down the grey corridors: she was much tougher than she looked from the outside. Her own sister had spent fourteen years there, proudly giving up her freedom in the name of her loyalty to her fallen master, and now it was her husband that was behind these thick walls. She followed an Auror - for the Dementors had left the prison months ago - in a long, dark corridor, with her head held very high and a much loyal allure, as though the look of this place and the dreadful feeling it brought into anyone's heart did not affect her at all. Draco, although not as confident and proud as her, followed her in silence.

The Auror opened a heavy metal door: Narcissa stepped inside, but when her only son tried to follow her, the Auror stopped him with a firm hand on his shoulder. He was a very tall, threatening-looking man with dark eyes and very bushy eyebrows.

"He waits in another room," he ordered with his severe voice that fitted the place very much. "Only one visitor at the time."  
"I'm sure we can make an exception, surely Lucius will want to see both of us at the same time," Narcissa simply replied.

The Auror smirked in a way that clearly showed his disdain for the Pure Blood family. He obviously couldn't care less about what Lucius Malfoy wanted.

"We are _already_ making an exception by allowing him to see you," his voice snapped back.  
"You have five minutes, Mrs. Malfoy, and I'll be counting."

She gave him a disgusted and outraged glare.

"Your kindness honours you," she replied coldly as he closed the door behind her.

It was a small, cold room. There was no furniture at all, and the only source of light was a small window in the middle of the wall next to the door. Narcissa waited for a few minutes, alone in the middle of the empty room, when she finally heard someone opening the door behind her. She quickly turned around, her blue dress twirling beautifully behind her as she did so. He was there, surrounded by three Aurors. They pushed him inside and quickly locked the door behind him.

It was a great shock to see how much that Lucius was different from the one she remembered. The Lucius in her mind was wearing perfect clothes, had soft, tied back long blond hair. He was confident, even arrogant. The one if front of her... the one in front of her was wearing that grey _thing_ that didn't even look like it had ever been real clothes, his hair was dirty and messy. He had almost fallen on his knees when he had been pushed inside by the Aurors, and he was surely not confident and arrogant anymore. He looked away from her, ashamed.

That Lucius was broken.

She felt her heart shattering like cristal smashed on the floor when she realised that. The powerful man she had married was gone.

"We discussed that before, Cissy," he said with a low voice, still refusing to look at his beautiful wife. "I told you, if they ever got me, I didn't want you to come... I don't want you to see me like this-"  
"And _I _told you, Lucius Malfoy, that I wouldn't let you alone here without doing everything I could to see you!" she replied with a piercing voice.

She walked towards him and hugged him very tight. He was a bit skinnier than she remembered, but she barely noticed it. Five minutes, they had five ridiculous minutes to see each other. His skin was as dirty as his blond hair, but she didn't care: she held him against her body and caressed his long hair.

"I'm sorry, Cissy," he murmured after a long moment of silence where he had let himself enjoy the warmth of her soft body.

He took her pale hand between his own, for he couldn't do more than that: the chains around his wrist prevented him from even hugging back his wife.

"This isn't your fault," Narcissa said firmly. "You were following orders, _this isn't your fault_. The Dark Lord will come back for you."

The Death Eater shook his head slowly.

"He will not."  
"Yes he will! He came back for Bella and the others-"  
"They'd been loyal to him. He will not come back for those who failed."  
"Then _I_'ll come back every time I can, Lucius, I swear," she replied with a shaking voice, caressing his cheek with her free hand. "I'll come back and see you whenever I can, I cannot just..."

Her voice broke.

"I love you so much," she managed to say, tears falling down her sapphire blue eyes for the very first time since her husband had been sent to Azkaban. "Being without you... it's _unbearable_..."  
"No, Cissy, don't cry, please..."

He managed to wipe away her tears with his hands almost painfully tied together.

"I'm really... don't cry, darling... please, you'll make me..."

Suddenly, the door opened, and the first Auror stepped inside.

"Time's up, Death Eater," he said with a cunning smile.

His smile grew even bigger when he noticed that Narcissa was crying.

"Oh, how _touching_."  
"You filthy Mudblood, don't you dare insult my wife!" Lucius's loud voice threatened him.  
"Filthy?" the Auror laughed. "_You_ call _me_ filthy?"  
"Real clothes and a shower and I won't be filthy anymore. Whatever you do, you'll always be," he replied.

The Auror rolled his eyes.

"Charming as ever. Mrs. Malfoy, follow me now," he said, taking her pale arm in his big hand.  
"No!"

She resisted, at least long enough to give her husband a burning, passionate kiss that lasted until he strongly pulled her back and forced her to leave the room. She jerked her arm away and gave him her coldest glare.

"Don't _touch_ me. I'm far over your standards," she said.

Away from her husband she loved and missed so much, Narcissa was able to regain her very dignified attitude and her usual poise, or at least enough to act arrogantly towards this Mudblood. She shot the Auror a last cold glare, and walked away to the room where she was supposed to wait for Draco's return.

Alone in the empty room, she touched her pink lips with the tip of her delicate fingers, and a single tear went down her pale cheek.

Five minutes was really not enough to show her love.

**End of the chapter:** Yup, I decided that they loved each others for change! Most fics have Lucius and Cissy not having a good relationship, often with Lucius being violent towards her and her being disgusted by him, but I personally think that if they didn't marry only for love (for most Pure Blood don't, apparently), Lucius must care for his wife and miss her somehow, and Narcissa must love her husband, as she can't stand anyone (even her own sister) insulting him ^^ next chapter: same encounter, from Lucius' POV! ;) Please let me know how you felt about this first chapter ;)


	2. Sunshine

**myppe: **Clearly there is love at the moment where the books take part, especially on Narcissa's side. I'm not sure they married for love but if they didn't, it definitely err... grew on them ^^

**Kristen143: **Yay, I thought I was the only one thinking "Buuut... Narcissa loves Lucius... clearly he isn't beating her up?" lol. Especially considering that, HELLO, Narcissa is a WITCH!

**AllaSchersterferan:** PHEW. Though nickname you have there ^^ but, thank you :D Here goes Lucius ;)

**The youngest black sister: **Hehe, it's all right. I've been curious about Narcissa ever since we first saw her, started loving her in HP6, and COMPLETELY fell in love with her (erm... not litterally, but, you know) in HP7. This character is so much deeper than one could think! I think Narcissa is like that, cold and arrogant towards the "unworthy" (namely, almost everyone lol), and much more human and emotional when it comes to those she loves, mainly Lucius and Draco! Hey, I always love "underdogs" characters. I totally love Fleur too XD

**Author's note:** I know, I know, this kinda took forever, but I had to take care of other projects ^^ I hope you'll still find this enjoyable. Oh, and I wrote this listening to Gavin DeGraw's "We belong together", which I of course do not own, but it fitted anyway ^^

**Fallen Pure Blood**  
**Chapter 2: Sunshine**

Lucius sighed, switching position on the very uncomfortable bed yet again. According to his standards, of course, this _thing _was barely worthy of his house elf, but the Aurors guarding the prison didn't look like they would listen to his requests and complaints about the level of comfort he had been given. Lucius grimaced: he was hungry enough for his stomach to actually hurt him, and yet he was still not hungry enough to eat the "food" he was given here. He would be damned if he allowed this gray thing - that looked like it had been eaten and vomitted at least twice before being given to him - in his mouth.

How in the world had his sister-in-law survived to this for _fourteen_ years? She came from the same social elite than he did: living in such conditions was probably as hard for her as it was for him, and she had the Dementors ontop of that. But, then again, Bellatrix was so deeply loyal to the Dark Lord than fourteen years eating unknown grey matter, wearing dirty clothes and being locked in the same cell all day long, every day, was something she could deal with. There was a major difference, too: Bellatrix had gone through that knowing that her master would come back for her - Lucius was going through that knowing that he would _not_.

Getting on his feet, he walked in direction of the very small window ontop of the left wall - not that there was a long distance to cover. The window would be barely big enough for his head to go through, and it was so high his fingers couldn't touch the edge, but it still allowed him to see the sky. Most of the time though, it was as gray and as dark as the rest of his small cell, but today was different: the sun was probably high in the sky, and there was not a cloud to be seen. All he could see was that tiny square of bright, cerulean sky, and hell it was _much_ better than this boring stone.

It reminded him of his wife. It reminded him of her striking cobalt eyes, it reminded him how beautiful her long golden hair was in the sunlight. More than anything else, he missed Narcissa. More than his comfortable bed, more than decent food, more than real clothes, even more than his status and his reputation. Narcissa. The rose scent of her elegant neck, her delicate arms around his shoulders. Her voice, her soft touch. And her _lips_, so perfectly shaped, so perfectly pink - pouting, smirking, smiling, laughing. Speaking. _Kissing_.

Lucius sighed heavily, leaning his forehead on the cold stones of the wall. If somebody had told him, twenty years ago, that he would miss Narcissa, he would've laughed - or perhaps thrown a curse - to this someone's face. The only reason he had agreed to marry this "stuck-up sour-faced bitch", like he had one said to his old friend Rodolphus, was that she was one of the very few remaining Pure Blood with a reputation that made her worthy to marry a Malfoy, _become_ a Malfoy herself, and bear his child. She was beautiful, wealthy and respectable: the three things he wanted for his wife.

Through the years, she had become so much more than that. He had seen her cleverness, he had seen her inner beauty and he had come to like her, even _love_ her. Narcissa had shown him his heart and he had promised himself he would protect it and truly cherish her until death took them apart: in exchange, she had become his shelter. She was the rock that forbid him to drown himself, the wind that embraced him in his many moments of solitude. She had offered all that and much more, if only he would stay with her and their son, and love them both.

He swallowed. He had failed. He had failed Narcissa by falling to the hands of the Ministry. He had been found guilty of so many crimes he doubted he'd ever see the sun again, except from this tiny window up the wall. He'd never be with Narcissa, since he had made her sworn she would not try to see him if he was ever to be sent to Azkaban - visits for high-security prisoners (read "Death Eaters") were forbidden anyway. He would never see the man his son would grow up to be-

"Hey, Sunshine," a mocking voice said, making him lose track of his dark thoughts. "Daydreaming again aren't we?"

The man smirked - he was one of the Aurors guarding the prison. Lucius _loathed_ him: he was a Mudblood. Lucius could litterally _smell_ it all over his skin.

"Not like there is anything else to do from _your_ side of the cell, I guess."

Lucius sneered, clearly with disdain.

"All these _years_ studying to become an Auror and the only assignement you get is to piss me off on a daily basis. I guess that can make a little Mudblood like you quite bitter- you must regret you didn't simply follow the Muggle life you were born to follow."  
"Don't push your luck, Malfoy."

Then again, the former Slytherin sneered.

"_What_ luck?" he asked. "I'm emprisoned in Azkaban, and forced to endure your company ontop of that. I fail to see the lucky part of that. Besides, what are _you_ going to do to _me?_ You're going to kill me?"

The Auror snorted.

"You've been granted the right to receive a visit," he said, motionning someone else to come over.

Lucius frowned. A visit? Indeed, for the first time he noticed that the man facing him was holding chains, a sign that the prisoner was about to leave his cell.

"Who?" he asked, his mind running.

It couldn't be the Dark Lord, of course, nor could it be another Death Eater such as Rodolphus or Bellatrix, but it couldn't be Narcissa either, she had _promised _she would not come.

"That'd be nobody if they asked _me_," the Auror replied, "But apparently even locked in here, you still gain some right others don't."

Lucius remained still and silent while they opened the door and chained his wrists together: he didn't even try, didn't even think about running away. He was too weakened for that, and there was nothing he could do without his wand: he had no idea how Sirius Black had escaped three years ago, and if Rodolphus and the others had done so last year, it was only thanks to the Dementors rejoining the Dark Lord again.

Lucius was pushed inside a room he had never seen, and almost lost his balance and barely managed to stay on his feet: he had really lost a lot of strength in quite a short period of time. _Perhaps I should start to eat_, he thought, as he lifted his grey eyes to finally see who had come to visit him, who had earned such a privilege.

Perfect figure, long blond hair that fell down her back: she was probably cold in that satin blue dress, but he knew she had decided to wear it that day because it was his favourite.

_Narcissa_.

Lucius looked away from her as she turned to him: he'd rather stare at the blank wall than look at her right now. It was humiliating, almost painful: here she was, his beloved wife, in this place that was so unworthy of her. Here she was, beautiful as ever, while he was nothing but a shadow of the man she had married. He swallowed.

"We discussed that before, Cissy," he said with a low voice, still refusing to look at his beautiful wife. "I told you, if they ever got me, I didn't want you to come... I don't want you to see me like this-"  
"And _I _told you, Lucius Malfoy, that I wouldn't let you alone here without doing everything I could to see you!" she replied with a piercing voice.

Narcissa. A determined, obstined person, really. Sometimes he loved that in her, sometimes he hated that - right now, he couldn't really decide.

And then, all of a second, she was there, holding him ever so tightly against her. He had not seen a shower since... well, since _a_ _while ago_, and yet she hugged him, running her fingers through the hair that used to be so soft and silky.

"I'm sorry, Cissy," he whispered.

Saying it lifted a weight from his shoulders: he had been wanting to apologise to Narcissa ever since Dumbledore had trapped his group in the Ministry. He was sorry that he had been caught. Sorry that he had brought dishonour to her and Draco. Sorry that she was alone now.

More than anything else, he wanted to hug her, but the chains were still painfully around his wrists: he took her hand in his and held it close, for it was the only thing he could manage to do to touch her.

"This isn't your fault," Narcissa said firmly. "You were following orders, _this isn't your fault_. The Dark Lord will come back for you."

The Death Eater shook his head slowly. He had forgot this idea from the start.

"He will not."  
"Yes he will! He came back for Bella and the others-"  
"They'd been loyal to him. He will not come back for those who failed."

Especially not for someone who had turned his back on him once. The Dark Lord did not forgive easily - actually, he did _not_ forgive.

"Then _I_'ll come back every time I can, Lucius, I swear," she replied with a shaking voice, caressing his cheek with her free hand. "I'll come back and see you whenever I can, I cannot just..."

Her voice broke.

"I love you so much," she managed to say, tears falling down her beautiful eyes. "Being without you... it's _unbearable_..."

He couldn't stand this. More than ever, Lucius hated the man he was: he was disgusted at himself for causing such sadness to her.

"No, Cissy, don't cry, please," he said, almost begging her as he wiped away her tears with the back of his hand. "I'm really... don't cry, darling... please, you'll make me..."

Suddenly, the door opened, and another Auror - probably the one who had guided Narcissa - stepped inside.

"Time's up, Death Eater," he said with a cunning smile. "Oh, how _touching_."

Lucius' blood started to boil immediately.

"You filthy Mudblood, don't you dare insult my wife!" he snapped, eyes throwing daggers at the other man.  
"Filthy?" the Auror laughed. "_You_ call _me_ filthy?"  
"Real clothes and a shower and I won't be filthy anymore. Whatever you do, you'll always be," he replied.

The Auror rolled his eyes.

"Charming as ever. Mrs. Malfoy, follow me now," he said, taking her delicate arm in his big hand.  
"No!" Narcissa shouted, trying to get away from him.

This was a long-lost battle, but she still managed to resist a little to the very tall Auror, long enough to kiss her husband. It shut down Lucius' brain: the soft taste of her cherry lips, her tongue playing so briefly yet delightfully with his, but there was this... this passion, this burning love. This was what he had missed the most. He opened his eyes when Narcissa was violently pulled away from him, and taken out of the room.

Lucius stood there, alone and in silence. Why was he still here? He had seen Narcissa, why wasn't he on his way back to his cell? Not that he wanted to go back there, but...

He frowned when he heard footsteps coming in his direction. Someone else had come... could it truly be-?

**End of the chapter:** Haha, cliffy fail because I said myself it would be Cissy then Draco XD until next time! *disappears dramatically, flapping her long cloak behind her, Snape style*


	3. Role model

**MsNarcissaBlack:**Hehe, someone loves Narcissa, am I right? ;) I love her, she's actually a fantastic character! I still get chills whenever I read the scene where she lies to Voldemort, that was fucking brilliant.

**furin-a: **Really? Aww, it's so great. Although, the next chapters will be about Draco and Lucius. I love Lucius and Narcissa, they're such aristocrats XD

**Chapter 3: Role model**

Draco used to be very proud. Very proud to be a Malfoy. Very proud of what that name meant in the magical community. Very, very proud to be Lucius Malfoy's son. His father was wealthy, powerful, well-known. His reputation was excellent, bar some idiots like Arthur Weasley who tried to make him look bad as soon as they could. Of course, Draco knew that these rumours were true, and that those stories his father told about being forced to act on behalf of Voldemort were all lies. A bit of a twist to truth, a lot of gold thrown in the good direction, and he had remained a free, influent man. His son saw that, and admired that. Being Draco Malfoy used to earn him respect.

Now, it wouldn't anymore.

His father had been caught, and convicted of being a Death Eater, which would only prove right those who whispered in his back that he had truly, willingly been Voldemort's servant. He had fallen in disgrace for everybody, and now Draco was the son of a _prisoner_. This was much less appealing than being the son of Fudge's right arm. With his father in Azkaban, it was up to him to give the Malfoy name its previous glory: and it was a very heavy weight for the shoulders of a sixteen year-old young wizard.

His father wasn't getting out of Azkaban, that was for sure. His mother might think the Dark Lord would go there to rescue him, but Draco, like Bellatrix, knew it wasn't going to happen. Why would the Dark Lord bother with failures?

Actually, his mother seemed to have given up on the thought that her husband would come back soon, for she had managed, only Merlin knew how, to earn herself and her son the right to visit Lucius while he was in Azkaban. Such things were normally forbidden, for obvious reasons, but she had found a way nonetheless. Just because her husband was in jail didn't mean she couldn't afford to give a lot of gold to the right people to obtain something she wished for so badly.

Draco was sitting on the edge of his bed, and unusual twist in his stomach making him feel quite nauseous. He was nervous, to say the least. His relationship with his father had never been the warmest father-son relationship known in the country, but in _Azkaban?_ It would make it so much worse. The whoke thing would be awkward, he could already tell: he wouldn't know what to say, what to do. Furhermore, he wasn't quite sure he wanted to see his probably weakened father. The father he saw when he closed his eyes was strong and proud - the one he would see in a short while had probably lost a lot of his poise and pride, but he _had_to go. He couldn't just let his mother go there alone.

"Draco?"

He lifted his eyes, meeting with his mother's. She was wearing a very beautiful blue satin dress. It was quite cold to be wearing this, and it would be much colder in Azkaban - for it stood in the middle of the sea - but Draco knew she was wearing it to please his father. It was his favourite. Because, yes... everybody who thought Lucius and Narcissa weren't truly in love could go eat some rotten Mandrakes for all Draco cared. No matter how stoic his father was, Draco saw it in his eyes that he loved her - he loved when she smiled, he loved when she laughed, he loved when she overprotected their son.

And she, well... you'd better not try and speak badly of her husband in her presence. She would defend his honour fiercely, for she, too, loved him. His father was probably not the most likeable person on Earth, but there was something about him that made his mother love him with all her heart. She wasn't the same now that he had left. She didn't smile as much, she didn't laugh anymore, and she overprotected Draco even more than ever before. Two people were important in her life: Lucius and Draco. She had lost one, she wasn't about to lose the other.

Draco shook his head, pushing the thoughts away, and got on his feet.

"I'm ready," he said, trying to sound as confident as he could.

He didn't speak at all during the trip: he didn't know what to say. He knew his mother couldn't wait to arrive and be reunited with her husband, if only for a short moment, but he wasn't so eager to be there. Quite frankly, he apprehended Azkaban a lot, and didn't really see how you could not apprehend it. Only the name spread dread in wizards' hearts, because it was synonym of despair for them. In these walls, the most optimistic became hopeless. People never got out, for most of them just starved to death, not finding the will to live anymore. Sure, this was in the times of the Dementors, and they had left the year before, but the idea of such a terrible place, the idea of the Azkaban Bellatrix talked about, was very much alive in Draco's mind.

"Wands," the Auror inspecting them ordered.

While Narcissa handed hers without any reaction, Draco grimaced a little. He hadn't been away from his wand ever since it had chosen him five years ago, at Ollivander's. Unicorn and hawthorn, two symbols of purity - he had always thought it was fairly appropriate. He felt very naked without his magic wand, especially surrounded by not-so-friendly Aurors who all wielded theirs.

Narcissa walked down the corridors with her head very high, and Draco tried his best to do just like her, but he knew he was doing a poor job at imitating her confidence and her strength. Yes, Narcissa Malfoy was much stronger than much people would think.

Draco frowned when, upon trying to enter an empty room, he was stopped by the dark-eyed Auror who was escorting them. Draco quickly turned, shrugging the heavy hand away from his shoulder, grey eyes glaring daggers at the older man.

"He waits in another room," he finally told Narcissa. "Only one visitor at the time."  
"I'm sure we can make an exception, surely Lucius will want to see both of us at the same time," she replied.

The man smirked: he obviously didn't give a Grindylow's ass about what Lucius, or his family, could want.

"We are _already _making an exception by allowing him to see you," his voice snapped back."You have five minutes, Mrs. Malfoy, and I'll be counting."

Narcissa glared at the Auror.

"Your kindness honours you."

The man said nothing, and simply closed the door behind her. Without a word, which made the atmosphere even heavier, he guided Draco towards another room. It was also empty, save for the table and the two wooden chairs. The tall Auror sat at the table, but Draco didn't, and he simply stood as far from him as he could, his arms crossed, his face and his mind closed.

"Are you scared, kid?" he asked after a long moment of silence.

Draco raised an eyebrow. _Kid,_ really? He was _sixteen_, for Merlin's sake! He was almost an adult now.

"Should I?" he carelessly asked.

The Auror smirked.

"I've never seen someone making so much effort to keep his distance with me."  
"What can I say," Draco replied. "You put my father in here. Of course I don't like you."  
"I didn't put him in here - _he _put himself in here."

Draco snorted.

"You're_ keeping_ him here, then. Same deal. I still dislike you very much."  
"Your dear father's the only one to blame for what happened to him, or to your family."

The young wizard growled, losing his composure: that Auror was very lucky he didn't have his wand.

"Shut up, all right?" Draco snapped. "You've got no idea what you're talking about! My father is a honourable man-"  
"Honourable men don't rot in jail, kid. You'd better stop admiring him, or else you're gonna end up in here as well. And you'll see me everyday."

Draco smirked, as though it was a joke and he was the only one to understand it.

"I don't plan on it," he sneered.

The Auror laughed darkly.

"Because you think these poor bastards planned on ending here?"

He glanced at his watch.

"I'll get your mother, then come back for you - don't try anything funny, the door will be locked."

Draco rolled his eyes. Trying _what,_ exactly? He didn't even have his _wand_, for Slytherin's sake! It's not like he was about to start running around and freeing the prisoners, protected by nothing but his charisma. He remained very still, his arms crossed on his chest, until he heard his father's voice growling menacingly. Stretching his neck, he watched through the small window on the upper part of the door. The door to the room where his father was had been opened, and apparently, the Auror had said something to get Lucius mad. The Auror held Narcissa's arm, as though he was about to force her out of the room, but she glared at him. Draco almost pitied the poor fellow: he obviously had no idea who he was dealing with.

"Don't _touch_me," Narcissa spat, jerking her arm away from him. "I'm far over your standards."

Draco smirked. He had expected nothing else form her. If there was a reply from the man, Draco didn't hear it, and he watched as his mother held her head high, walking by him to enter another room, probably just like the one her son was in. The door then opened.

"Your turn, boy."

Draco walked to him, throwing him a leer that clearly dared him to try and hold his arm like he had done with his mother. The Auror had had enough of the Malfoys' attitude, so he simply led the young wizard to his father.

"Five minutes for you too," he simply said before closing the heavy door behind him.

Lucius stood in the middle of the desperately empty room. As their eyes met, Draco felt as though their positions had somehow been switched. For many years, Lucius had stared coldly at his son, unsatisfied with whatever he did, and for many years, Draco had lowered his eyes in shame, and promised to do better. While Lucius didn't promise to do better, he most certainly looked ashamed. And, while Draco didn't look all that cold, his eyes clearly betrayed disappointment.

It was just like he had feared. He had no idea what to say. It took him at least one full minute to speak, and when he did, it wasn't for the most important things:

"I've got all my O.W.L.s," he flatly said.

He didn't know what to say other than this. Most of his discussions with his father were about his results, be it in Quidditch or in classes. Lucius nodded absently, finally finding the strength to look at his son.

"You did well?" he asked.  
"Es everywhere. O in potions though, as expected. I'm still a prefect. I'm the captain to the Quidditch team now."  
"Good."

_Good?_ That was all? No "Es aren't good enough for Malfoys"? His father must've been very affected by his time in Azkaban. And the silence fell again. An awkward, heavy silence, which fortunately didn't last for too long.

"Draco."  
"Yes?"  
"Don't do it."  
"Don't do what?"  
"We both know."

Draco sighed heavily.

"Did Mother tell you? She isn't supposed to! He said-"  
"No, Narcissa didn't tell me, _you _did."

Lucius smirked at the disbelief on his son's face.

"Tell Bellatrix that her Occlumency teaching is a bit off, if you will. What you have been asked to do is written all over your mind, you might as well write it on your forehead."

Draco scowled.

"You have no right of-"  
"Draco, look at me. You don't want to be in my place, I swear to Merlin, you don't. If you do what he's asking of you-"  
"I won't get caught! I'm not an imbecile!"

"You _fool_," Lucius growled, seizing his son's shoulders. "Don't you understand what's going on? He's wanted him dead for a long time, why now? Why you? Why ask an inexperienced wizard to do such a thing?"  
"Because I can reach the old crook in the school! No one else can!"  
"How about Snape? Draco, your mother and I have raised you better, you're smarter than this - can't you see it's a _trap?_ Either you're gonna fail and die, or succeed and get caught!"

Draco laughed coldly.

"Even now..."

He shook his head.

"Even now that you're in Azkaban, you think you know better. You really don't think I can accomplish anything, do you?"  
"I expect you to do more with your life than throw it away in slavery like I did!"

Draco shrugged his father's hands away.

"You've failed," he coldly said. "I've got to do this. Once I kill Dumbledore for him, our name will regain its righteous glory, and he will come to free you. I've _got_ to do this."

And then, without another world or glance for his father, Draco opened the door and left the room.

**End of the chapter:** The next will be the last! Same moment, Lucius' point of view ;) meanwhile, feel free to let me know what you thought about this part.


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